1 83 LETTERS FROM HIGH LATITUDES. [XI. 



Scoresby himself actually witnessed a mass of ice, the size 

 of a cathedral, thunder down into the sea from a height of 

 400 feet ; frequently during our stay at Spitzbergen we 

 ourselves observed specimens of these ice avalanches ; and 

 scarcely an hour passed without the solemn silence of the 

 bay being disturbed by the thunderous boom resulting from 

 similar catastrophes occurring in adjacent valleys. 



As soon as we had thoroughly taken in the strange 

 features of the scene around us, we all turned in for a night's 

 rest. I was dog tired, as much with anxiety as want of 

 sleep ; for in continuing to push on to the northward in 

 spite of the ice, I naturally could not help feeling that if any 

 accident occurred, the responsibility would rest with me ; 

 and although I do not believe that we were at any time in 

 any real danger, yet from our inexperience in the pecu- 

 liarities of arctic navigation, I think the coolest judgment 

 would have been liable to occasional misgivings as to what 

 might arise from possible contingencies. Now, however, all 

 was right ; the result had justified our anticipations ; we had 

 reached the so longed-for goal ; and as I stowed myself 

 snugly away in the hollow of my cot, I couid not help heartily 

 congratulating myself that — for that night at all events — 

 there was no danger of the ship knocking a hole in her 

 bottom against some hummock which the lookout had been 

 too sleepy to observe ; and that Wilson could not come 

 in the next morning and announce " ice all round, a-all 

 ro-ound ! " In a quarter of an hour afterwards, all was still 

 on board the " Foam; " and the lonely little ship lay floating 

 on the glassy bosom of the sea, apparently as inanimate as 

 the landscape. 



My feelings on awakening next morning were very plea- 

 sant ; something like what one used to feel the first morn- 

 ing after one's return from school, on seeing pink curtains 

 glistening round one's head, instead of the dirty-white boards 

 of a turned-up bedstead. When Wilson came in with my 

 hot water, I could not help triumphantly remarking to him, 

 ■ — " WeH, Wilson, you see we've got to Spitzbergen, after all ! " 



